


Hypertensive Crisis

by WhenInDoubt_EatCake



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenInDoubt_EatCake/pseuds/WhenInDoubt_EatCake
Summary: In the final moments of the battle, Bilbo barely manages to get to the dwarves on Ravenhill in time. However, hobbits are not meant for battle, and Bilbo's body suffers the consequences of ignoring the warnings it was giving him.





	Hypertensive Crisis

The scramble to the top of Ravenhill was exhausting. Bilbo was aching from what felt like a thousand bruises and gashes, but the adrenaline pumping through his body wouldn’t let him stop. There was a never ending mantra of  _ runwarnfilikilithorinsave  _ pounding in his head. 

 

Before he knew it, he was skidding to a breathless stop next to the dwarves. 

 

“Th-there’s another wave of orcs and goblins coming. You need to get off the hill, it’s a trap!”  

 

The two brothers looked surprised but overjoyed to see him, and as he quickly looked for any obvious injuries, the two older dwarves exchanged a dark look. 

 

“How do you-” Thorin started to say, but was interrupted by a loud, horrible wail, as a wall of goblins surged over the outcropping of rock just behind them. 

 

There was a flurry of movement around Bilbo, but suddenly a splitting pain in his head nearly brought him to his knees. He staggered, but had no time to think about it as a particularly angry goblin launched its screeching horror at him. He swung Sting through the air, and there was a spray of black blood splattered onto the icy ground near his feet. 

 

He didn’t know if it was the sight of the blood, or the carnage or noise of the battle, but he was suddenly dizzy and nauseous. Stumbling, Bilbo waited for the world to stop spinning, and then looked up. Out on the frozen water, Fili, Kili, and Thorin are going head to head with Azog (When did he get here? Bilbo wondered.) Dwalin was slashing through hordes of goblins, successfully keeping them away from those he’d sworn to protect. 

 

There was a sudden roar from Azog, which probably meant that the Sons of Durin were nearing victory, but which was lost on Bilbo, as it suddenly felt as though there was something squeezing his chest shut. Choking and wheezing, he put one hand to the rock wall nearest him and the other on his chest as blood roared in his ears and a sharp pain shot through his head. 

 

Dimly, he heard the victorious shout from one of the dwarves, and a blast from a war horn. He looked up through blurry vision to the dwarves now celebrating over the body of the pale orc. 

 

A shadow fell over the bright blue ice, and Bilbo looked up confusedly at the gold shapes now swooping low over them. 

 

“The eagles are here.” Fili was saying.

 

There was now a strange feeling of something warm trickling down his face from his nose. Bilbo reached up to touch it, and his hand came away red. Huh, blood.

 

“Bilbo?” That was an odd tone in Dwalin’s voice. The hobbit looked up, and the expression on the dwarf’s face was hard to place, but it finally registered as fear. 

 

The Sons of Durin were talking loudly now, wondering if they could get down to the fighting in time to help, even though the battle seemed to be over. 

 

Bilbo’s knees buckled unexpectedly as the world quickly turned dark around the edges, and a shout from Dwalin was the last thing he could remember before everything went black.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Thorin had seldom felt so free. 

 

As his nephews cheer and bump heads, he stands over the corpse of the pale orc and pants in the cold sharp air as he looks out over the raging battle and grins. 

 

The rush of emotion was cut short by the frightened sound of Dwalin’s voice. 

 

Thorin jerked around in time to see his hobbit look up blearily, hand falling away from his face as a small river of blood flowed from his nose. In the few seconds before Bilbo’s eyes rolled back in his head, Thorin took in the way his chest and throat were heaving, like he was struggling for air. 

 

And suddenly, Bilbo crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and a loud, horrifying  _ thunk  _ sounded as his head cracked into an ill paced rock. Dwalin’s shout brought Fili and Kili to be aware of the scene, and their faces changed from wide grins to blank husks of horror. 

 

It took him a minute, but Thorin shot after his oldest friend towards their burglar. He scooped up Bilbo’s head and cradled it in his lap. There was a sticky mat of blood on the back of Bilbo’s head, creating a fucked up bloody bird’s nest. 

 

If he had been in his right mind, he would have been incredibly proud of his oldest nephew, as Fili immediately signal to an eagle to come get Bilbo to help. 

 

In a blur of colors and movement, Bilbo was swept out of his arms and safely carried to the healing tents by the eagle. 

 

Dimly, Thorin allowed himself to be lead down Ravenhill, towards the healing tents, and toward his burglar. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


When Bilbo woke, he immediately wanted to go back to sleep. His head was pounding, and he felt something wet and cool on his forehead. Cracking his eye open, he noticed someone bustling around the room. The room, he realized, was actually a tent. 

 

He huffed softly, attempting to sit up. The person obviously noticed, and hurried toward him. 

 

“Oin?” Bilbo asked, voice rasping as he recognized his friend. 

 

“Ah, you recognize me? Good, good!” The crows feet around the old dwarf’s eyes crinkled as he smiled with relief. “You scared us quite badly, you know?”

 

“What happened?” 

 

“You had quite a severe hypertensive crisis.”

 

“A what?” Bilbo squinted up at Oin.

 

“Dangerously high blood pressure. We were fearful for you kidneys at first, but when we slowed your pulse, you started breathing better and your nose stopped bleeding. You also hit your head quite hard after you collapsed, and I suspect you might have a concussion.” While he said this, Oin checked Bilbo’s pupils, and nodded to himself.

 

“Your eyes are dilated, so it’s bedrest for you for the next few days. Tell me if you vomit or pass out again.” As Oin began to leave the tent, he looked back said “You have a few visitors. Shall I send them in?”

 

It was then that Bilbo became aware of hushed voices outside, and shuffling with occasional bouts of laughter. Bilbo grinned weakly and nodded. 

 

In a flurry of flying tent flaps and hair, a pair of dwarves tumbled into view. Fili and Kili were grinning maniacally and began speaking at the same time, and very loudly. The noise pounded into Bilbo’s head and he flinched, putting his hand to his head. The boys were shushed almost immediately, and whisper-screamed their apologies. 

 

“What happened?” Bilbo asked once they had settled down. 

 

“Well, we got an eagle to get you to the healers in time, and everyone has been in and out to check on you for the past few hours.” Fili said.

 

“I’ve only been unconscious for a few hours, then.” Bilbo asked.

Kili nodded and explained that they both had been running around on semi-diplomatic errands, rallying the remaining dwarven troops, counting the casualties, and providing the people of Laketown with shelter within the Mountain. Bilbo was impressed, and said so. The boys grinned mischievously at him, and said that Thorin was waiting to speak to him. 

 

Bilbo huffed confusedly, and suddenly the two princes were shoving each other out of the tent, and their uncle walked in. Thorin looked exhausted and a little worn down, but very much alive.

 

Bilbo smiled softly, and the king hesitantly returned the look, and a sudden blooming warmth expanded in his chest, as affection for this dwarf was returning to full strength, in the power that it had held over him on the quest. 

 

Thorin cleared his throat, and sat down next to the bed. They sat in companionable silence until Bilbo suddenly said, “I’m so sorry.” 

 

Thorin looked up in surprise. “Why?”

 

“I stole the Arkenstone. I betrayed your trust, and I’m sorry.”

 

Thorin’s face twisted into a myriad of emotions, and finally settled on pained. “You were trying to save me and my family from myself, and I was too blind to see that I was placing a piece of rock of hundreds of lives.” 

 

Bilbo smiled softly, and said “You were ill, and we all knew that. You are not to blame.”

 

Thorin sat there, brooding. Finally, he said “I don’t deserve you.”

  
Bilbo snorted in a very un-gentle hobbitish way. “You’re going to have to get over that. You’re stuck with me now.” And then he smiled, and pulled his stubborn, wonderful dwarf down for a kiss.


End file.
